


Unvoiced

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst and Porn, Established Relationship, Inline with canon, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Fai hates him for it, hates Kurogane for his selflessness and his generosity and his love, most of all and especially, because Fai cannot be strong enough to refuse the offer of the other’s heart when it is made." With his return to Celes waiting for him, Fai takes a moment of silence between himself and Kurogane.





	Unvoiced

They have no time.

Fai can feel the weight of it on him like a chill, ice spilling into his blood to freeze the stolen heat on which he’s been living. He has been borrowing time with every breath, living on the debt that is always paid by another, in the end: by his twin, by Kurogane, by the princess. He is ice, a death drawn into the seeming of an existence, an absence of life rather than the reality of it; he can feel it coming for him, a drumbeat marking out his final reckoning with every pulse of Kurogane’s blood in his chilling veins. There is no escape, now, not even from that debt he feels like a crushing burden against him; all there is waiting for him now is the cold, and the betrayal, the death and loss and grief that follow every step of his cursed existence, that have been everything he has ever known.

He would stay away if he could. He has tried from the start, has hidden behind a smile and a laugh and the flippant dismissal that should have been enough to push aside the bedrock sincerity that is written in every line of Kurogane’s body, that runs through the very resonance of the other man’s voice. Kurogane should have scowled at him, and growled irritation to Fai’s foolish teasing, and that should have been an end of the focus of those dark eyes. But Fai’s curse runs deeper than that, runs into eddies of underestimation and a doom greater even than that of isolation, and by the time he saw his failure it was too late to do anything to stop the result. Kurogane’s eyes see right through him, course as deep through Fai’s body as that borrowed life through his unnatural existence, and all Fai’s resistance is useless, now, however he may try to struggle against his fate.

Kurogane doesn’t understand. Kurogane has never understood, not truly; he sees Fai’s distance, he sees the rime of crusting ice, but he doesn’t feel the blizzard of doom that’s stealing his life as fast as he offers it, doesn’t see the void into which Fai will draw them both the closer he comes. Fai hates him for it, hates Kurogane for his selflessness and his generosity and his love, most of all and especially, because Fai cannot be strong enough to refuse the offer of the other’s heart when it is made. He has tried, has pulled back and drawn away and blocked himself off as far as he can; and Kurogane has reached out, and dragged him back in, and Fai has felt his resistance crack like ice shattering to the blow of a sword.

They didn’t speak of it. It was clear between them the moment Kurogane’s touch caught at the loop of metal around Fai’s neck, the moment he dragged to pull Fai in towards him by physical force enough to overcome the other’s passivity. Kurogane’s eyes had blazed, fire enough to melt anything Fai might offer, and Fai had stared up at him with his heart pounding in his chest and had known, had felt surrender bleeding through his veins like poison to steal the last of his strength. He doesn’t fight, after that, doesn’t push back against Kurogane’s insistence and the dimensional witch’s demands to buy them passage back to that home he hoped to leave forever; he just lets them fall around him, lets them weight lead into his bones, and when Kurogane catches at his wrist to lead him out of the room Fai goes without complaint.

It’s a relief, in truth. Fai wishes he were stronger, wishes he had the fortitude to push at Kurogane’s shoulders, to urge the other away from him with the show of rejection that would be enough, for a man like Kurogane; but when Kurogane slams the door behind them Fai is reaching before he’s turned, stretching frostbitten fingers to the heat of Kurogane’s body before him, and when Kurogane growls and seizes at his collar Fai is tumbling forward and into his arms as fast as the other pulls. Fai’s arms fall around Kurogane’s neck, Kurogane’s hands grab at Fai’s hips, and when Fai’s shoulders hit the wall with force to spend the air in his lungs it’s Kurogane’s mouth that catches the give of the moan in his throat to silence.

Kurogane isn’t gentle with him. Fai thinks he would find the will to shove him away if he were; whatever he deserves, gentleness is so far from it he thinks even his ruined self-control would balk. But Kurogane is angry, his jaw set on fury that doesn’t ease even as his fingers work under the blood-spattered weight of Fai’s clothes to reach for the cool skin beneath, and it’s the anger in him that melts Fai’s blood, that gasps in his lungs and flushes at his cheeks and curls his hands to fists in the other’s hair. Kurogane loops a pair of fingers into Fai’s collar, and drags him forward into a kiss that bruises the shadow of blood to Fai’s mouth, and Fai can feel himself striking sparks off the resistance, can feel himself giving way as quickly as Kurogane demands it of him. Kurogane tastes from his mouth, and takes from his body, and Fai shudders with heat stolen from Kurogane’s own veins, with desire turned to something dark and painful in the shadow between them.

Fai feels Kurogane entering him like a blow, as clearly as that punch that bruised the side of his face to the shape of the other’s knuckles in the bright-lit space of the other room. Kurogane’s hot, radiant with heat enough to burn Fai on contact, and when they come together Fai feels like he’s being undone, like Kurogane is reaching into him to lay claim to everything he has tried to keep separate, everything he has tried to protect those dark eyes from. Fai is made of hurts, of betrayals that run deeper than the warmth of Kurogane’s blood can ever reach, but he has never been able to keep Kurogane out, not from the first moment he damned himself with that too-familiar nickname, and this is no exception. Fai ducks his head to Kurogane’s shoulder, hiding his face as if there’s anything left in his expression that Kurogane hasn’t already read from the rest of him, and Kurogane’s fingers fist into his hair to hold them steady together as the other’s hips drive forward to pin Fai back against the wall, as if he means to urge his affection as entirely within Fai’s existence as the desire that has so entangled them both. Fai feels the heat rising in him, feels his body melting to gasping want, to the tide of pleasure that swamps his better judgment as much as the chill in his veins, and he closes his mouth on speech and sound to muffle even the giveaway of a whimper into Kurogane’s shoulder.

Kurogane doesn’t speak. Fai is grateful to that, amidst the ruin of the resistance he should have mustered, the strength he can’t find even for this last hope of salvation, this last existence too good for him to tarnish. The words are clear in every act: in the care of that fist holding his hair without hurting his scalp, in the raw edge of an anger bright enough to bruise the value of Fai’s existence into his own body, in the thrusts of painful desire that go gentler with every motion, that soften into tender intimacy with every stroke. But Kurogane doesn’t say them, doesn’t voice the affection that Fai can hear rasping behind every breath, dragging to the weight of tears even as he seeks out the relief of physical pleasure, and Fai’s gratitude for that small mercy dampens the lashes of his tight-shut eye even as their breathing spikes towards anxious expectation together. He can feel the pressure in Kurogane’s throat, can taste the words struggling at the other’s chest as if it’s within his own; in the moment of tension, at the very cusp of release, Fai feels his shoulders brace with anticipation, as Kurogane’s whole body goes taut with the truth Fai can’t bear to hear. But then Kurogane sets his jaw, and groans wordless incoherence as he gives way to pleasure, and Fai thinks it’s the relief of that silence as much as anything else that gasps in his throat as his thighs tense with the force of his own release.

Even after, they don’t speak. Kurogane lingers for a long moment, panting at Fai’s shoulder while his fingers cradle the back of the other’s head; Fai keeps his head down, keeps his eye shut against the expression on Kurogane’s face, as if not seeing will do any more to buffer him than silence did. Finally Kurogane lets him go, drawing back and away from Fai’s body against his; his hand lingers longest, that touch sliding through the weight of Fai’s hair like he’s reaching across a chasm, like he’s speaking volumes with the touch of his fingers alone. Fai keeps his eye shut, and keeps his head ducked forward, and finally Kurogane’s hand falls away. There’s the sound of footsteps, slow and heavy as Kurogane pulls himself together and makes his way to the door, but even after the burden of it has swung back into place Fai stays where he is, leaning against the wall with his sweat cooling to shiver over his skin while his heart flutters over agony in his chest.

Even long after Kurogane has gone, Fai can taste the other’s heartbeat on his lips.


End file.
